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While at anchor in the South Pacific, I wrote a book about my voyage. From daunting weather to relationships sweet and sour, wild waves and boat repairs, this very personal memoir shares my many challenges, my search for harmony with nature, and how I come to feel the unity of all things. The team at Patagonia Books, along with illustrator Daniella Manini, bring my story to life with amazing art and four photo galleries. It’s a work of enormous love, with the intention to inspire others to follow their hearts, protect our planet, and live out their dreams. Ask for it in your local independent bookstore, order online, download as an e-book, or listen to me read it as an audiobook. While at anchor in the South Pacific, I wrote a book about my voyage. I’m excited to share the personal story of my voyage with the world. Book available now!
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IN THE RED

Posted on Apr 1, 2010 | One Comment

En route to adventure…

My tanned feet stood out against the bright red plastic of the channel marker on which I stood. The ocean flooded past like a river. I gripped the bobbing post with one hand while encouraging the Tahitian man who was struggling to paddle the final 20 feet against the current with the other. He was losing ground. I’d barely made it there myself. The sun was setting and I looked back at my dinghy, anchored safely in the channel 300 yards up current. There was no way to get there.

ā€œTu est pres’que laā€¦ā€ I coaxed him, thinking over the events that had landed me there…

The shaft tube was out, the new one already on the way (thanks to Fin Beven)…so I’d felt I deserved to go wash off a little yard dust. When I’d gotten word from Adrian that an obscure reef was breaking on the other side of the island, I’d packed up the dinghy for the long haul across the lagoon. Despite what seemed to be a lot of windchop, he’d reported overhead, offshore, and only a few guys…

I’d arrived to greet some local French surfers getting out of the water. ā€œBonjour! How was it?ā€

ā€œAhh, the current is too strong and the wind making it hard to get inā€¦ā€ Lillian had said.

I’d waved as they motored away, happily waxing up my board despite their warning. ā€œIf those guys can surf it, I’ll be fiiiiiiiiiine.ā€ I’d smiled to myself. ā€œThere’s still one local out and Adrian’s probably on his way…ā€

I’d leapt off the dinghy into the translucent turquoise and paddled for the peak to greet the other surfer. Before I’d arrived a set rose out of the blue. He’d been way too deep, so I paddled hard to make it over to the shoulder. The wind blew hard up the face but as it pitched vertical, I swung around and stroked over the ledge. ā€˜Overhead’ was an understatement…I kicked out at the bottom of the reef in a surge of adrenaline and headed back out for more.

I’d greeted the older Tahitian surfer before another set arrived, but as I reached him I noticed that the current kicked in strongly where the reef cornered at the top of the pass. We both paddled for the inside as we spoke, but realized that we were fairly quickly being swept up the reef.

Adrian had just made it to the lineup when a set, nearly double the previous, rose up in front of us. I heard the Tahitian man let out a strained yelp as I scraped with all my strength to get under it. All three of us made it through, but the Tahitian man continued to make a guttural fatigued wheezing noise that seriously worried me. ā€œIf another wave like that comesā€¦ā€ I’d thought, ā€œHe’s in trouble.ā€

Actually, we were all in trouble. ā€œYou stay with him,ā€ Adrian called, ā€œI’ll go for my boat.ā€

I called to the man to follow me outside the surf line. All I could think was to try to make it to the channel marker in the pass about 100 yards away. It was slightly cross to the current, but worth a try. With my fresh arms, I felt strong and knew I could make it, but I stayed with the Tahitian man, encouraging him as we went. I’d finally made the final 50-foot sprint, but my friend had less strength left in him.

So there I was, standing in the red, the buoy bucking as the current must have been exceeding 3 knots. I could see Adrian still struggling to make it back to his dinghy. Just as the Tahitian man was about to give up, I spotted a fishing boat returning from sea. I waved my brightly painted board frantically in the air in hopes that he’d notice. Just as he’d nearly passed us, his speedy ā€˜poti marara’ made a jarring turn to port. As he pulled up, I jumped and pointed to my Tahitian friend man who was now 50 yards out to sea…

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1 Comment

  1. Davina Menduno
    April 2, 2010

    Hey chica,
    first of all, you are a bad ass.
    Second, we’ve got some things in common. I’m also a female sailor ( not a common breed.) I had a mariner 32 for 10 years, which had sunk and I completely rebuilt it (next time you need fiberglass work done, you just let me know.) I painted her purple and planned to sail her around the world, though I spent all my money rebuilding decks, bulkheads and the engine, ect.- you know how it adds up. I did some single handing up and down the east coast but never could afford to really travel. I sold her 2 years ago. Now I’m hitch hiking around the world on other peoples boats. Its cheaper, though it comes with a whole other set of problems.
    I’m a novice surfer. And working on my writing to support myself. I really like yours. You are an inspiration.
    I just found out I’ll be published in “Latitudes and Attitudes,” I’m stoked! It’s a start. Check out my writing: http://www.dreamyourlife.wordpress.com
    Just thought I’d say hi. I’m in Panama now, just cruised the Caribbean. I’m back tracking to the DR to get on a younger more active boat, diving, surfing, ect. And after Cuba, we’ll be heading through the canal towards New Zealand. Who knows, maybe we’ll cross paths somewhere out in the wild blue.
    Cheers girl!
    Davina

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